


Sandwiches

by Crane_Kick, RedShift_Star



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: BAMF Bayley, Demon & Human Interactions, Demon Finn Balor | Prince Devitt, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, F/M, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crane_Kick/pseuds/Crane_Kick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShift_Star/pseuds/RedShift_Star
Summary: Based off of a screenshot from Tumblr:"While putting your favourite condiment on a sandwich, you accidently make an occult symbol and summon a demon."Or:Demon King Finn gets summoned to Bayley's hotel room. So she offers him a sandwich. Because what else is she supposed to do?This was formerly on just my lovely co-author Crane-Kick's account, but since getting my own(and, as she so eloquently put it, us getting our arses in gear), it's now up on mine as well.





	Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off of a screenshot from Tumblr: **_"While putting your favourite condiment on a sandwich, you accidently make an occult symbol and summon a demon."_** , and the following (paraphrased) extension:  
> 
> 
> **_"You silently take two more slices of bread and make another sandwich and hand it to the demon. He takes it, smiles, and vanishes into a puff of smoke. The next day you get that job promotion you were after. There was no contract, no words spoken, you owe nothing, but every now and then the demon pops back in for lunch."_**  
>    
> 
> 
> I saw this and couldn't help but think of Finn: the demon, obviously, and Bayley: the one person who would probably be friendly enough to offer said demon a sandwich. I claim no rights to anything, either characters or ideas, this was just a one-shot inspired by the idea of Demon!Finn and the ever-upbeat Bayley meeting in an unusual way.

**‡ Bayley ‡**

 

Alone in my hotel room, I hummed softly to myself: hips swaying absently to the song in my head as I squirted tomato ketchup onto my sandwich, mindlessly creating patterns with the red sauce.

I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings; tomorrow was _TakeOver: Brooklyn_ , and really I was just focusing on trying to keep myself calm so I could get a good night's sleep and wake up refreshed and ready to take on Sasha Banks. I'd finished training for my match: and now all I needed was a light meal, a hot shower, and then I was going to bed. I needed to be at my best tomorrow.

What I didn't need was the lights of my hotel room to flicker, and then go out: along with the AC unit. The room was suddenly dark and stiflingly hot.

Deciding to see if the phone was working, to at least try and call down to the hotel reception, I was stopped in my tracks by the inky figure now standing in the centre of my hotel room.

Shadows even darker than those of the room surrounding it seeped out of it's skin, like tendrils of black so dark they seemed to absorb all light: shrouding the six-foot creature in mystery - but then the darkness became solid, forming a solid figure: a six-foot tall body, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and hips, and muscled thighs: all still seeping black tendrils, but now with pulses of crimson red flashing and fading like a heartbeat. They streaked from the crown of it's head, from it's wrists, and striped down one of it's arms, the redness echoed in the strange characters that marked the creature's skin: all over's it's bare legs, torso, and the arm free of the red light. It tilted it's head curiously, cold grey eyes watching me carefully...before the creature hunkered down onto all-fours and began to slink _(there was no other way to describe the movement: it was unlike anything I had ever seen...it was a creepy, inhuman movement)_ towards me.

I pressed myself back against the kitchenette's counter, and the creature paused: drawing back onto it's heels. I turned around: hoping that this was all some kind of strange mind trick hallucination thing, before doing another one-eighty degree turn, only to see the creature was still there, still watching me curiously.

Petrified, I spun around again. Surely this...this thing was inhuman: it must be able to see how scared I was on my face...and I mustn't let it see how scared I was: I couldn't look like prey.

But despite my efforts: suddenly the creature was _right_ _behind me_. I could feel the oppressive heat radiating off of it, smell the sulphur that seeped from it's skin, even see the tendrils of darkness it gave off writhing at the edges of my vision. Still, I kept my spine straight, locked my knees to stop them from trembling, and forced myself to do something.

Something that turned out to be...making a sandwich.

God only knew why. The only way I could justify it was a vague hope that perhaps if the creature was fed, then it wouldn't try and feed on m, if it ate people. It probably ate people. It appeared out of nowhere in pitch darkness, and moved like an animal - so, yeah, it probably ate people. Not that I wanted to find out. Instead, I focused on making another sandwich, putting on a plate, and then held it out to the side. But the creature didn't take it.

Instead, it pulled back. Not far, but far enough that I could summon up the bravery to turn, and offer it the plate again. It seemed...confused. Like no-one had ever offered it anything before, but before I could speak to reassure the creature, it carefully reached out, oh so slowly...before suddenly yanking the plate out of my grasp, and disappearing.

All of a sudden, the lights flooded back on, and I heard the hum of the AC kick back in: leaving the room too bright and feeling chillingly cold without the creature's oppressively hot presence. Even the air felt lighter without him here...the bright lights, cold, and weightless feeling made me feel sick: dizzy and light-headed. I scrabbled for my cell, unsure of who I was going to call - but knowing I needed to call someone. It was while I was scrabbling to unlock the phone, that it buzzed with a text:

 

**UNKNOWN NUMBER:**

**Go into the bathroom, close the door behind you, and turn the shower on as hot as you can. Then just sit on the floor until you feel better. Trust me, it'll help.**

 

Blindly, I followed the instructions given to me. I couldn't understand why, but I did - and I was glad I did. The heat and heaviness of the steam settled the dizziness in my head, allowed me to feel grounded again. I was so overjoyed I didn't even try to text back asking who the unknown texter was. As soon as I was feeling well enough, I stumbled back to the bed and crawled under the sheets.

Deep down, I was still hoping that somehow I was going to wake up tomorrow and this would've been just some kind of weird nightmare. Something brought on by the stress of all the training I'd been doing for tomorrow. When I woke up, it would all be fine.

It _had_ to be fine.

 

  

 

**‡ ‡ ‡**

  

 

 

The next night, I was terrified.

I couldn't stop thinking that I hadn't slept enough, I hadn't trained enough, and - maybe most importantly - I _hadn't_ dreamt up what happened last night. There had been some kind of _creature_ in my hotel room last night, and I had the strange text to prove it. And to top it all off, with all that freaking me out, I was going out to fight Sasha Banks for the NXT Women's Championship.

I was petrified.

No matter how hard I had tried: I had never been able to win this belt. The first time I tried, I never got past the first qualifying round in the tournament to win the belt. And the woman I had lost against? _Sasha Banks_ \- the very woman who I was challenging for it tonight. And then when I managed to become the Number One Contender, I still couldn't get the job done. Twice, being defeated both in my first match with Charlotte and our re-match. At _Takeover: Rival_ , I competed in a Fatal 4-Way match for the belt, but I was defeated _again_ by Sasha. Each and every time I went for the belt, I failed.

Maybe Emma was right about me. Maybe I was just too nice to be the Woman's Champion. Sasha and Charlotte weren't nice - they were amazing, and great women, but they weren't _nice_. Paige hadn't been nice, she had been kickass! I wasn't like that...I was just Bayley...

 

"Good luck tonight, _cuisle_." husked an unfamiliar voice: "Although I'm sure you won't need it."

 

I turned...only to see an all-too-familiar figure.

Six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscled thighs: the man in front of me was almost the exact size and shape of the creature from last night. And most terrifying of all? He had the same grey eyes with the same glint in them. And he even had the jet-black skin, with the painted white fangs, and the black and crimson rags hanging from the crown of his head and wrists.

 

I spluttered in fear, taking a step back from the man in front of me - a man I had though was just a man, just Finn Bálor, but was actually...some kind of monster: "But...I...no, you... _you_..."

 

Finn smirked and winked, then swaggered away to prepare for his own match tonight while I stumbled back in fear...only for my music to start up outside the curtain. I had to go out and face Sasha, no matter how scared I was. Besides...Finn had wished me well, hadn't he? That meant he didn't want to hurt me or kill me or anything...

...Surely?

  

 

  

**‡ ‡ ‡**

  

 

 

Later that night, I sat on my hotel bed: scribbling onto the hotel notepad. Tonight had left me seriously shaken: and I needed answers.

I needed answers, because _I couldn't remember anything_.

The last thing I remembered was climbing into the ring with Sasha, after coming down the entrance way, smiling and trying to be my usual cheerful self. But after that it was just one big black spot, before I came to in the middle of the ring, being declared the winner of the match, and the new NXT Women's Champion. It was like something out of a horror movie, but even though I knew that I was probably being dumb, I couldn't exactly explain the situation to someone for reassurance! They'd think I was crazy, and they might take the title off of me. So after I'd gone through the locker room like I would do as if everything was normal, accepting everyone's congratulations, before coming back to my hotel room and getting started on some research: starting with Finn Bálor.

His wrestling history was seriously impressive...and he was no stranger to being a bad guy. The more I dug, the...more unsettling it got. There were some dark rumours circulating about him...ones fitting of a man who called himself the Demon King. A name I was starting to think wasn't just an intimidation tactic. So after that, I'd looked up demons...and why they would be attracted to people. My leading theory on why he had appeared in my room last night? I had been absently pouring ketchup into my sandwich, drawing patterns. I must've drawn the symbol - some sites called them 'runes' - that either summoned him specifically or the nearest demon (which would have been him, since we where on the same hotel floor) by accident.

So I was trying to recreate that symbol.

I knew Finn Bálor was staying on this floor tonight - _over three-quarters of the NXT Roster was_ \- but I didn't know the exact room, nor did I want to be seen asking around for him. So this was my last shot...though it wasn't going well. I'd been at it for hours with no result...and I was just about ready to give up.

With that feeling of frustration snapping at my heels, I was more than happy to chuck the notebook aside when there was a knock on the door, springing off of the hotel bed to go and answer it.

 

"Good evening, _cuisle_."

 

I jerked back at the sight of Finn Bálor standing in my doorway...enough that he could step into the room and close the door behind himself, smirking like everything was normal...when it clearly wasn't.

 

Something about this situation - about _him_ \- wasn't quite right...his walk wasn't the swagger from earlier, it was smoother...more like the creature from last night, and his eyes were different: fever-hot and burning. Like a demon: "What are you doing here?"

"You called me, didn't you?"

"I called the creature that was in my kitchen last night."

"He is I, I am he." Finn...or maybe not Finn just shrugged: "It just so happens that tonight I happen to be wearing a different skin."

Anger burned hot in me at the thought of someone being hurt: "What have you done with Fergal Devitt?"

Bálor just laughed: "Nothing. He's just allowing me to take control right now...just as I sometimes do when we fight, and just did with you, earlier."

"I don't know about Fergal, but I didn't let you do anything!"

"No, _cuisle_ , but that didn't stop me. I'm a Demon, and you fed me: so I fed your hunger for victory. We're even." the...the demon shrugged: "Is that all? I did wonder why you seemed to desperate to call me back. You've drawn the summoning rune over six times: most people don't dare to call me once."

"I'm not most people." I muttered sullenly: "And I can see why, if you're always so rude! Possessing people without their consent..."

The demon threw back his head and laughed: the sound haunting and terrifying and seductive all at once: "No, darling mortal, you _are_ different. You were quite the challenge. I shall have to see about playing with you again some time."

 

Fear flooded my system.

Being possessed by a Demon, even to win matches and progress my career, sounded terrifying. And dangerous. It sounded like a slippery slope into...well, I didn't know what, but it couldn't be good. I didn't want that: I liked being me, being Bayley. I didn't want to be possessed!

 

"Look, no. No. I don't want to be...possessed. I like being me: of being aware of my actions."

"Fergal doesn't mind...although he doesn't black out, I suppose, so it is a little different..." the demon mused: "Tell me, darling little Bayley, if I agree to refrain from possessing you...do I get more sandwiches?"

"...I don't think it ever ends well when people make deals with demons..." I hesitated.

"Well now, that depends purely on your perspective." Bálor grinned, the expression shark-like: "But don't worry. I happen to like you being you, little Bayley: so there's no contract, no 'deal'. Just...friendship."

"Friendship for you is sandwiches?" I asked.

The demon looked confused: "Human friends eat together, don't they? Fergal pauses in training to share meals with his friends. And they 'have his back' - not as much as I think they should, but he seems happy. I will have your back, so to speak, and you will feed me. That is friendship."

"Okay." I smiled: "Friends. But no late nights before big matches, okay? If you want sandwiches on those days, it's daytime sandwiches, okay?"

"As you wish." Bálor smirked: "I shall take my leave. Remember Fergal's helpful text message, _cuisle_. I shall even start the shower for you - because I am a good friend."

I smiled: "Of course you are."

  

 

  

**‡ ‡ ‡**

  

 

   

Weeks later, and Bálor and I were still friends, as were me and Fergal. The first time we had met had been a little...strange, but it seemed all the tales of his temper were actually based off of Bálor, not him. Fergal was one of the friendliest men I'd ever met, and we often goofed around together during training or even at work. He'd done my entrance the other week, with the armbands and the running around and twirling and everything...something Bálor had complained to me about over his next sandwich.

 

_'It looks good on you, my darling Bayley, it makes him look like a fool.'_

 

In return, I had done their entrance, to cheer him up over not being able to compete with Fergal's busted foot. Fergal had loved it, and from what he'd told me afterwards, Bálor had as well. Which was why I didn't understand why I was getting poked in the face by fever-hot, clawed fingers.

 

"Why?" I groaned, rolling away from the irritating fingers: "Why with the poking and the waking me up and the late nights?"

" **Because I am hungry.** " came the deep, rasping voice that was Bálor's alone, not the one that was half-him-half-Fergal: " **Feed me.** "

I whined: "But I'm _tired_. Go bother Fergal."

" **He sent me to you. So what will you give me, if not food?** "

"That traitor, after I cheered him up today and everything." I muttered: "Did you like that, by the way?"

I felt Balor lean down to press his cheek against my temple - a demonic sign of affection, especially when he rubbed his cheek against my hair like a cat: " **You were very intimidating, my dear. You honour both me and Fergal, and do us proud.** "

"Thank you." I smiled: "And if you want anything, all you're getting is a hug. 'M not getting out of bed right now."

A faux-sigh, then rustling as the fearsome demon king settled himself on the bed next to me: " **I suppose that will do**."

 

I turned and cuddled into him: kicking off the sheets, knowing that Bálor's extreme body heat was more than enough to keep me warm, especially when I curled into his side: slinging an arm across his waist, and tangling my legs with his. From what Fergal had told me, Bálor didn't like many people touching him...but for me, he made an exception, and a big one at that, with the full-body contact. Neither I or Fergal could work out why, and Bálor only smirked when asked, but I didn't mind. Especially when a hot arm wrapped around my back, hauling me closer, and warm darkness wrapped around me.

 

"Good night, Bálor."

" **Good night, _cuisle_. Sleep well.** "

"You know I will."

 

I always slept well when hugging Bálor.


End file.
